


Forever One

by loves_books



Series: Forever Changed [4]
Category: The A-Team (2010), The A-Team - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-10
Updated: 2015-05-08
Packaged: 2018-03-17 07:29:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 20,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3520637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loves_books/pseuds/loves_books
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal and Face had missed far too many important days since they started their long-distance relationship, and spent too much of their precious time together sitting in hospitals while one of them was injured. It simply wasn't fair that it was happening again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've wanted to tell this story for quite a while and am delighted that I've finally found the time to write it. I should add that this probably won't make much sense if you haven't read the previous works in this series.

It really wasn’t fair, he couldn’t help but think for what seemed to be the hundredth time. This always seemed to happen to them, and this time more than ever before was really and truly unfair. It should have been the first Valentine’s Day they had the chance to spend together in more than five years, and something like this had to happen. They might well be cursed; surely they deserved a break after all the good they had done for others over their combined years of service, and everything they’d been through before finally getting together as a couple.

They’d missed other important days over the years in which they’d worked hard to make their long-distance relationship work, of course, far more important dates. They had been apart for birthdays and Christmas Days, for Thanksgivings and Easters, and far too many anniversaries. They’d nearly always managed to talk on the phone, however brief the call might be, or to get a message to the other one somehow. It wasn’t ever enough, but it was so much better than nothing at all.

It was one of the most difficult things to deal with in a long-distance relationship such as the one Hannibal and Face had found themselves in, though they’d each found ways to cope. Face, of course, understood just how difficult it was to plan ahead in an Alpha Unit like Hannibal’s – he’d lived the same life himself for so long, and he knew how unpredictable the work was. Weeks away from base with no contact, and last minute missions just before they were due to go on leave. And Hannibal too had grown to understand how demanding Face’s new work was, as he took charge of increasingly important and time-sensitive projects within the intel division at Benning.

That was why this year was meant to be so special, for both of them. Hannibal had been scheduled to have three weeks leave, though Face had only been able to book one week off for himself. And they had decided that they were going to celebrate Valentine’s Day properly for the very first time.

Neither of them were particularly romantic men, of course, and neither of them had ever openly mourned the missed opportunities of the previous years. Valentine’s Day was far too commercial, they’d always agreed. The gifts were tacky, and the cards tasteless. The pressure to do something special, just to show someone how much you loved them, was ridiculous, and the day itself never seemed to live up to expectations. Restaurants charged double their usual prices just because it was Valentine’s Day, and it was all so overwhelmingly cheesy. Love hearts and chocolates and pink tissue paper – hardly the stuff of dreams for a Colonel in the Rangers, and a Captain in the US Army.

But this year, well, it could have been something special. For the first time since they’d become lovers, they were due to be in the same country on February fourteenth, and they’d tentatively planned to do something special. Not something expensive or public, though – dinner for two at the home they shared, most likely, but in their finest suits and with candles on the table. Face had admitted he’d spent hours choosing the perfect card, and Hannibal had teased him over the phone for weeks about a perfect present he’d found somewhere in a market in Iraq. He’d also been dropping hints about the need for them to talk about something serious, though he’d refused to say anything more, wanting to preserve the surprise.

They’d each spent the last few weeks quietly looking forward to it, while also trying not to get their hopes up just in case, and then this had happened.

They were together, at least, though it wasn’t in the way either one of them would ever have wanted. An intensive care room in a military hospital, with one of them lying unmoving in a bed, hooked up to numerous monitors and equipment, the other forced to sit and wait. And hope.

Hardly a new scenario for the two of them, sadly. This had happened far too many times over the years. During the many years they had served on the same team, it had more often been Face who lay wounded in bed – he had been the sniper, the point-man, too often out alone and away from the support of Hannibal, BA and Murdock. Sometimes, they had both been injured on the same mission, and they had woken lying in adjacent hospital beds. And at other times, Hannibal had been the one hurt, leaving Face to keep the team together and keep watch over his colonel as best he could.

Since Face had lost his leg and their tight-knit team had been torn apart, things had changed, of course. Face had a desk job now, and a permanent office at Fort Benning. He didn’t have to face bullets, IEDs or knives every day, and so Hannibal had more often been the one injured since they had finally declared their love for each other. Each time he’d been hurt, Murdock or BA had taken it in turn to call Face, wanting him to hear the news from them rather than through the grapevine. It had always been hard for Face, receiving that call and being so far away from the man he loved. One day, he had always known, the call he dreaded more than anything might come through – Hannibal could very well be killed in the line of duty, and Face had no idea how he would cope if that day ever came.

In contrast, Face had been hospitalised only a few times since he’d been permanently back at Fort Benning, and each time Hannibal had been lucky enough to hear the news quickly and find a way to get home to his boy. Only last year, a persistent cough had developed into pneumonia, and Face had spent two weeks fighting for his life in the medical unit at Benning. Another time, he’d been the passenger in a car which had spun out of control and crashed, leaving him with a concussion and several broken ribs. Yet another time had been scheduled surgery to correct a problem with his stump, and Hannibal had been able to stay for a whole month as Face went through endless physiotherapy during his recovery.

Too much of their precious time together had been spent in hospitals, and now for this to happen just seemed so incredibly unfair. Valentine’s Day, and they were together as planned, though one of them had been in an induced coma for more than two weeks. A heart monitor beeped a soft and steady rhythm, and a ventilator hissed quietly every few seconds. Clean bandages were barely visible beneath snug blankets. There were far too many bandages, he thought for the thousandth time.

“I thought you’d gone home already?”

The unexpected voice made Face jump slightly in his chair, seeming far too loud in the quiet of the ICU room and dragging him out of his thoughts. “No, not yet.” He found he had to clear his throat before he could continue, his voice rough from hours of disuse. He didn’t know what to say to Hannibal. Didn’t even know if Hannibal would hear him, with the heavy cocktail of meds keeping him unconscious and blessedly free of pain. “I didn’t want to leave him, actually. Not tonight.”

The nurse crossed to the foot of the bed, offering him an understanding smile as she checked Hannibal’s notes. “When was the last time you slept in your own bed, Captain?” she asked him quietly. “I know for a fact that you didn’t go home last night either.” 

Face just shook his head, staring at Hannibal’s lax features. The blue-grey eyes he loved so much were closed loosely, the deeply tanned skin appearing far too pale in the muted fluorescent lights of the ICU. “I’m fine here,” he mumbled eventually, as he continued to feel the weight of the nurse’s gaze on him.

“So when was the last time you rested your leg properly?” As Face opened his mouth to reply, she quickly added, “And I don’t mean giving it a five minute wash in the en-suite with alcohol wipes you ‘borrowed’ from the supply cupboard.” 

Fair enough, Face had to admit. “Okay, point made.” He’d been wearing his prosthetic leg nearly constantly for almost forty-eight hours now, only returning home briefly to snatch a quick shower and a change of clothes, preferring to nap in the uncomfortable chair by Hannibal’s bedside. Just in case. “But I feel like I should be here, y’know?”

Their relationship wasn’t secret, thank goodness. They didn’t go around broadcasting their feelings, but they’d never felt the need to actively hide the way they felt for each other. Hannibal and Face weren’t in the same chain of command, nor were they violating any regs now DADT had been dropped, and the medical staff knew exactly what Hannibal meant to Face. They’d been as accommodating as they could be, under the circumstances, but Face knew he’d been pushing his luck by staying as long as he had. 

The nurse moved around to the opposite side of the bed, starting to check the monitors and IV lines surrounding her patient. “Go home, Captain Peck,” she told him firmly. “He’s stable and healing well so far. It’ll be another day or two before we try to wake him up, as the doctors explained earlier. You know we’ll call you the moment anything changes. You have to take care of yourself right now; the last thing you need is to develop an infection in your leg, or to run yourself into the ground when he is going to need you to be strong for him.”

Face squeezed his eyes shut against her stern look, knowing she was right, and hating it all the same. What little remained of his left leg was throbbing almost constantly in the socket of his prosthetic, in spite of the fact that he’d been sitting down most of the time, and on top of that his back and neck were killing him after he’d slept awkwardly in the plastic chair last night. He wasn’t as young as he used to be, sadly, and he had learned the hard way that he had to take his physical limitations into account sometimes. 

That didn’t make it any easier to leave Hannibal in the hospital alone, though. Particularly not alone in the ICU on Valentine’s Day. 

“Can I have another five minutes with him before I go? Please?” He turned on his best and brightest smile, even though he was sure it came out a little strained, and aimed it at the nurse, able to spot the very moment she gave in.

“Just five minutes, Captain. I’ll be back at the end of that, and I will expect you to leave.” She waited until Face nodded reluctantly before leaving him alone with Hannibal again.

“Five more minutes, John. It’s not long enough.” Face stood up awkwardly from the chair, wincing as his stump gave a particularly painful throb. Perhaps the nurse really did have a point. “I hate this,” he whispered, stroking one hand carefully through Hannibal’s close-cropped silver hair. “I hate that you’ve been hurt this badly, when we should have been celebrating right now. I know it wasn’t your fault, and I know you saved a dozen lives, but really… It just isn’t fair.”

No response, of course, not even the twitch of an eyelid. Face carefully lifted Hannibal’s hand into his own, mindful of the trailing IV lines, and kissed the limp fingertips gently. 

“The doctors all tell me you’re doing incredibly well, considering what you’ve been through already. I know you’re going to be just fine, in time, but I need you to be better right now.” 

Three surgeries so far, one in Iraq and another two in Germany before Hannibal had been flown back to the states, and Face knew it was a sign of just how well his lover really was doing that he’d been transferred home only two weeks after being shot in the chest twice. One bullet had ricocheted off a rib and buried itself in Hannibal’s right lung, while the second had nicked his aorta. If the team hadn’t been right by their chopper, if Murdock hadn’t pushed the machine to its limits, if BA and Read hadn’t been able to keep pressure on the bleeding, if there hadn’t been a surgical team on standby, if, if, if… 

Face sighed heavily, feeling tears prickling at his eyes yet again. He refused to let them fall, though. Hannibal really had beaten all the odds so far – no infections, no complications, almost certainly no permanent damage. Critical but stable, and recovering far better than expected. It would be a long road back to health for the colonel, but there was no reason to think he wouldn’t make a full recovery, which was more than Face had dared to hope for when he’d first received the phone call from BA telling him Hannibal had been injured.

“I keep telling myself I should have been there. That you wouldn’t have been hurt if I’d been by your side.” He huffed a humourless laugh. “I know how stupid that is. I know Read was right there, that he saw that sniper just a second after you did. I know you did what you had to do, to save all those lives, and I’m so proud of you for that. But I should have been there.” 

He’d wanted to fly right out when he’d heard, of course, needing desperately to be by his lover’s side. But the team had been in the middle of Iraq, and not even Face could arrange flights to get himself out to the front lines. Even when Hannibal had finally been transferred to Germany, there hadn’t been any way to get to him – Murdock, BA and Read had been forced to stay behind too, though Face had heard the mission they’d meant to be going on had been given to Black Forest instead. 

Rumours of the failure of the mission and the death of Hannibal’s old friend Russell Morrison had reached Face, but he simply hadn’t been able to bring himself to care. He had suffered too many sleepless nights thinking of Hannibal alone and fighting for his life, until finally, finally, the colonel had been transferred back here to Benning, and Face had barely left his side since. Thank goodness Hannibal had named him formal next-of-kin years ago, meaning Face had been kept fully informed every step of the way. 

Face glanced up at the clock on the wall, heart sinking when he realised his time was nearly up. “I don’t want to go, John, but I have to,” he whispered, leaning down to press a loving kiss to Hannibal’s forehead. “You sleep now, and get your strength back as soon as you can. I’ll be back first thing in the morning, I promise.” Reluctantly, he placed his lover’s hand back on the bed, tucking it carefully beneath the blankets once more. 

Stepping back from the bed, he hissed in pain, dropping one hand to rub at his aching leg. The nurse was right, but leaving Hannibal like this was harder than almost anything he’d had to do before. 

He stared down at Hannibal’s pale face for one final moment before turning to leave. “Happy Valentine’s Day, John,” Face murmured over his shoulder, wishing with all his heart that he could hear those words whispered back. But of course the words didn’t come.


	2. Chapter 2

Things were moving far too slowly. Face had known it would take time, of course. He’d known that not even the great and seemingly-invincible Colonel John ‘Hannibal’ Smith could bounce back immediately from two gunshot wounds to the chest and multiple surgeries, but it still felt as if things were moving too slowly. 

If only there was a button which could fast-forward them all several months down the line, when Hannibal would hopefully be back to full health and back on duty where he belonged, and Face could breathe easy once again. If only they could rewind to before the team had gone out on that fateful mission, saving Hannibal from ever having been shot at all. There were no such shortcuts available, sadly.

The doctors all still agreed that Hannibal was recovering incredibly quickly, just over a week after he’d arrived back at Benning. The colonel was awake now, on and off, though the cocktail of painkillers and other medications being fed into his weakened body through his IV line meant he was asleep more often than not. And when he was awake, it was painfully clear to Face that Hannibal was frustrated and miserable, though there was nothing anyone could do to help with that.

“When c’n I go home?” Hannibal asked over and over again, every time he woke from his drugged sleep. “Temp, take me home? Please?”

It almost broke Face’s heart to say ‘no’ to his lover, especially when it was what they both wanted more than anything. But Hannibal needed more time in the ICU, probably at least another week or so, and even after that he’d still need to stay in the hospital for longer while he continued to get his strength back. Barring any new complications, of course, which was something Face didn’t allow himself to think about even for a moment. 

The more Face thought about everything else, the more he knew how incredible it was that Hannibal was doing as well as he was – still no sign of infections or complications, his lung injury almost fully healed already and the cardiac tests all as positive as they could be at this early stage. As a trained sniper himself, Face knew all too well that it was a miracle Hannibal hadn’t been killed outright, but that didn’t stop it all feeling as if things were moving too slowly.

Face had officially taken the time off work, thankful beyond words for the understanding of his CO and the support of his colleagues, and he’d spent nearly every waking moment at the hospital by Hannibal’s side. He’d also made the effort to take better care of himself, going home each night to toss and turn restlessly in his bed rather than napping in the chair in Hannibal’s room. In his mind, Face could hear Hannibal lecturing him not to neglect himself and his health for any reason, and it was that little voice more than any threats from the staff at the ICU which forced him home at a reasonable hour. But it didn’t make it any easier to bear the guilt he felt every time he had to leave his lover alone.

Things had become a fraction easier, though; BA, Murdock and Read had finally landed back in the country a few short days earlier, piling straight into the ICU in spite of the doctors who had tried to keep them out, and gathering around their Colonel’s bedside, still smelling of hot deserts and gunpowder.

“Look who’s here, John,” Face had murmured, leaning over Hannibal and stroking a hand carefully through close-cropped silver hair, trying to coax the injured man to open his eyes for a moment. “You’ve got visitors.”

A sleepy grumble had been the only response, though, and after waiting another few minutes the team had reluctantly accepted Hannibal wouldn’t wake. Instead, they had each hugged Face briefly and whispered their own greetings to their sleeping CO before retreating from the room to drop off their kit and wash up, after their long trip across the world to get back to the States.

Now, finally, Face had the support he hadn’t realised he’d been missing, and he found he could relax just a fraction, though he was careful to never let down his guard in front of Hannibal when the Colonel was awake. He didn’t have to be strong or brave all the time, not with the guys around. He could show his own fear and frustration and pain at the whole situation. He could let them share the worry, and the waiting.

It was so strange, even after all these years – Face had other friends at Benning, close friends, but somehow it wasn’t the same as having BA and Murdock around. They had been his brothers for so long now, his best friends, even in the several years since they had been on the same team. Face always felt he breathed easier when they were by his side. Tom Read had also become a close friend since joining Hannibal’s team as XO, in his own way, and Face knew that Hannibal would be needing all of them as he fought to get back on his feet after being so critically injured.

Now, Face had company when he sat by Hannibal’s bedside for hour after hour. Now, one of the team would stay with Hannibal every night while Face went home to the other two – there had been no doubt at all that the team would stay with Face, in the house he shared with Hannibal. He was incredibly glad of the company, more for Hannibal’s sake than his own, even if it did seem that Hannibal hardly knew who was around him at times, thanks to the heavy medication he was on.

Hannibal was asleep again now, and had been asleep for an hour or so already, since the last time the nurse had checked on him. Face had BA by his side, the two of them sharing an easy and comfortable silence as they sat by Hannibal’s hospital bed, each of them lost in their own thoughts. It had always been easy to be quiet and peaceful with BA, and Face was truly glad of his friend’s presence. Having company made the ICU room feel less intimidating, somehow.

“Temp? Where…?”

Face leaned forwards immediately, squeezing his lover’s hand gently. “I’m right here, John,” he soothed with a smile, waiting until hazy blue-grey eyes blinked open and Hannibal managed to focus on him. “Hello there. You need anything?”

Hannibal rolled his head slightly on the pillow. “Hmm, no. I’m okay. You okay?”

“I’m just fine, thanks. Any pain?” It was always the first thing Face asked, even though he knew the doctors were carefully keeping track of Hannibal’s painkillers, and he waited with baited breath until the older man gathered his strength enough to answer.

“No pain,” Hannibal slurred, blinking heavily and trying on a wonky smile before asking, predictably, “Does that mean I can go home?”

A deep laugh as BA also leaned over the bed, resting one big hand on Hannibal’s arm. “Not yet, boss. You’re here for a while longer.”

“…go home tomorrow?” 

“We’ll see.” Face half-stood and pressed a tender kiss to Hannibal’s forehead, not surprised when he realised the older man was already drifting back to sleep. “Rest, love. It’s all okay.”

Within moments Hannibal’s eyes were closed again, his breathing deep and relaxed, and Face sank back into his chair with a tired sigh, careful of his leg. He could feel BA watching him, could tell what the other man was going to say before his friend even opened his mouth.

Sure enough – “Why don’t you go get some rest too, Faceman?”

“I’m fine,” Face whispered, rubbing his eyes briefly but not meeting BA’s gaze. “I’m not leaving him.”

Silence for a few moments, then a heavy hand landed on Face’s shoulder. “I’ll stay, brother. Go get some lunch with the crazy fool, or go home and sleep, or go to the gym with Read and pummel the hell out of a body bag or two.”

It was tempting, Face had to admit. A change of scenery, even if just for an hour or two, but then he looked back down at Hannibal’s pale face resting on the thin hospital pillow. Looked again at all the monitors, and the IV lines, and the thick bandages wrapped around that strong chest, and squared his shoulders. “No, Bosco. Thanks, but I’ll stay. You go if you want, though. You don’t have to keep me company all the time.”

“Now who’s the crazy fool?” BA grumbled, though Face could hear the smile in his friend’s voice and knew the corporal understood his reasons. They soon fell back into their comfortable silence, sitting side by side again in those uncomfortable plastic chairs, and Face was so grateful not to be pushed on the subject of leaving Hannibal’s side that he felt unwanted tears stinging at his eyes.

BA knew exactly when to push and when to leave a subject well alone. He was also the only one, so far, who had offered to tell Face the details of the mission where Hannibal had been shot, in spite of the fact it was heavily classified, and he had simply nodded acceptance when Face had firmly turned him down. The details didn’t matter. Or, rather, they did matter – they mattered more than anything, in a way – but they wouldn’t change anything now. 

There was nothing to be gained right at that moment by Face knowing every action and inaction which had led to the man he loved taking two bullets to the chest. Nothing to be gained by him over-analysing everything and thinking what he would have done differently, if he had been there with his former team. Nothing to be gained by wishing that things were different, even though he did wish that, with all his heart.

Someday, perhaps, Face knew he might want those details. He knew Read, in particular, was anxious to talk to him about it all, but the other Captain had held his peace so far, recognising that Face needed to focus on getting Hannibal better before he could cope with anything else.

The details of their last mission might not have been discussed, but there were other little details creeping into the whispered conversations held over and around Hannibal’s ICU bed, details which had started Face’s tired yet clever brain wondering what he’d been missing these last few months. What he hadn’t been told about the team’s activities.

Mentions of shared missions with other teams, and times when the members of Hannibal’s team had spent weeks apart from each other. Mentions of training courses and ‘valuable opportunities’ and ‘great new experiences’, and a lot of little pieces which just didn’t fit with what Face thought he knew. 

But whatever pieces Face was missing, they didn’t matter at that moment. As BA squeezed his shoulder in a rough attempt at reassurance, Face knew nothing mattered other than getting Hannibal better, however long that might take. And the bottom line was that Hannibal would get better. 

Hannibal had to get better.


	3. Chapter 3

It was such a relief to have Hannibal out of the ICU at last, and tucked up safely in a private room. The colonel was propped nearly upright in bed while he slept on, the thick bandages around his chest replaced by a large dressing taped firmly in place – to Face, that was the most visible and obvious sign yet that Hannibal’s condition really was improving.

For the last two weeks, time had seemed to be stuck in an endless loop of softly beeping monitors and fifteen-minute obs. Now, the change of location brought a greater sense of relief with it, though of course Face wouldn’t relax fully until he had Hannibal back home with him. It gave him more time to think as well – for all that he told himself time and again that he didn’t want to know what had happened on that final mission, and as much as he tried not to wonder about what else he hadn’t been kept informed about with regards to the team and their activities, he was starting to burn with curiosity about everything.

But the one thing Face knew above all else was that it still wasn’t the time or the place to have in-depth conversations about anything more than Hannibal and his slow yet steady recovery. 

As the days passed by, Hannibal stayed awake a little longer each time he drifted to the surface, more aware of where he was and what was happening, and the doctors had begun the difficult task of weaning him off the strongest of the painkillers. That meant the first signs of pain appearing on Hannibal’s pale face every time he opened his eyes, and Face hated seeing that with all his heart. If it were up to him, Hannibal would be able to stay on morphine for as long as he needed, but he knew from his own bitter experiences after losing his leg that the sooner Hannibal was off it for good, the better it would be. The potential for addiction was too high, and, in a strange way, the doctors actually needed to know what was hurting in order to help Hannibal along his road back to full health.

There were things Hannibal needed to know, too. Conversations Face wouldn’t even dream of starting until they were back home together, away from the cold and impersonal military hospital, and his lover was back to being his normal, strong self once more. 

Most importantly, Face was all too aware that Hannibal still hadn’t been told of the death of his old friend Russ Morrison, the incident happening while Hannibal had been en route back to Germany. Face didn’t even know all the details himself yet, finding it hard to work up the energy to place the calls he needed to make in order to find out exactly what had gone so badly wrong with the mission that should have belonged to Hannibal, Read, Murdock and BA. 

Face had no idea how the colonel would take the news – General Morrison had been buried with full military honours, Face knew that much, and Hannibal was practical and experienced enough to understand that men died in war, often for no good reason. But still…

They had all lost friends over the years, good friends and brothers-in-arms, but Hannibal and Morrison went way back. Face knew he didn’t understand even half of what the two men had been through together, and he dreaded having to tell his lover that one of his best friends was dead. It would have to be done, and sooner rather than later, but with Hannibal still so drugged right now there was no way to have that conversation yet. Face would tell him when the time was right – the rest of the team had already agreed to let him decide exactly when that would be.

It wouldn’t be here. Not in a military hospital, Face had already decided that much. There were enough distractions without that conversation, especially with BA and Read quietly keeping Face company by Hannibal’s bedside, and with Murdock being Murdock.

It wasn’t exactly a surprise that Murdock didn’t seem to know the meaning of ‘a comfortable silence’, though the pilot had quickly learned to keep his voice down or risk being thrown from the hospital by the strict doctors and nurses. Face found he couldn’t help but smile at his friend and his endless crazy yet subdued antics – Murdock never seemed to change, never seemed to grow up, and Face hoped desperately that the pilot never would. 

A constant stream of chatter filled the room whenever Murdock was there, cancelling out the familiar and reassuring beeps from the monitors surrounding Hannibal, yet somehow the pilot never seemed to raise his voice above a whisper as he regaled Face with story after story of the team’s recent deployments, always stopping before reaching the mission which had ended with Hannibal catching two bullets to the chest. 

“…And then this one time Beckett was hangin’ upside down outside the chopper, and you should’ve heard Bosco screamin’ blue murder as he was strappin’ himself to the chair, and there was all this gunfirin’ goin’ on and I thought I’d have to roll the chopper, but Macky told me to – ”

“Wait, wait, back up buddy.” Face was lost, completely and utterly lost. “Who’s Macky? And Beckett? And where were Hannibal and Read in all this?”

“Macky. You know Macky, Major MacAllister? Bob? Oh, no, wait – I think he was still a Captain when you came back here. No, he was a Major, just, I think.” Murdock looked confused for a moment, his expressive face scrunched up in thought. “Yeah, he was newly promoted. Major Macky. And Beckett’s just Beckett, Macky’s number two.”

“Right, okay. And Hannibal was where?” Face was beyond lost now. This story had started out as a simple list of the number of different vehicles Murdock had been able to fly or pilot in some form over the last few months, and quickly turned into something else entirely in the time it took for Face to run a practised eye over the steadily-beeping monitors and Hannibal’s face, still lax and thankfully pain-free in sleep.

Murdock sighed dramatically and rolled his eyes, as if the answer should have been obvious. “He was back at base, of course. No idea exactly what he was doin’, though. And Read was off on a training course.” Before Face could even begin to ask what course Read had been taking, and why Hannibal hadn’t been with the rest of his team, the pilot was off again, babbling in an excited whisper. “So Macky says, don’t do that, why don’t we dive down there, see, ‘cos there was this gap in the mountains, like a narrow pass, and so – ”

Face’s brain was spinning. Why had Murdock and BA been out on a mission with MacAllister and his team in the first place? It wasn’t the first time one of his friends had mentioned something like this, but as the days and weeks passed and Hannibal started to recover inch by inch, Face found it was getting more difficult to tell himself it didn’t matter. Perhaps the time had come to ask outright.

But again, before Face could cut into Murdock’s eager chatter, something else interrupted his train of thought – this time, it was a soft groan from the man sleeping in the hospital bed, and Face was on his feet in a split second, waving a hand at the pilot to shut him up.

“John? Hannibal, love?” The colonel’s eyes were still shut, but as Face watched his lover shifted slightly on the bed, another sound of complaint slipping from his lips and a faint wrinkle of pain appearing on his brow. “Lie still, Hannibal. Just lie still.”

“Should I get the nurse?” That was Murdock, up on his own feet on the other side of the bed, though Face didn’t spare him a glance as he nodded, resting his hands gently on Hannibal’s shoulders to keep him still.

“No nurse.” Hannibal, of course, had other ideas, shifting insistently yet weakly beneath Face’s restraining grip, and forcing his eyes open with what seemed like a huge effort. “I’m fine,” he breathed after a moment. “Really, I’m just sick of lying in bed. Want to get up. Want to go home.”

“When you can stay awake for longer than five minutes then we’ll see about getting you out of bed for a bit. How does that sound?” Face plastered on a smile and was relieved when Hannibal gave him a tired smile in return, the lines of pain fading into familiar and much-loved laughter lines.

“Sounds good,” the colonel murmured, though he was blinking heavily already. “What’re you talking about?”

Murdock piped up, “I was just tellin’ Facey here about that time in the chopper with Macky and Beckett hangin’ upside down and BA screamin’ in the background – ” 

“No, Captain.” Hannibal’s words were suddenly clear and strong, his red-rimmed eyes as wide open as Face had seen them yet. “What did we agree?”

Murdock looked confused for a moment, starting to protest. “But, bossman, I didn’t say – ” The pilot stopped himself midsentence, nodding sheepishly. “Oh. Yeah. My bad. Sorry.”

“Murdock?” Face was truly lost now, and starting to feel annoyed with it all. “Hannibal? What did you agree? What aren’t you all telling me?”

“Tell you later, Temp.” After the brief show of strength, Hannibal was clearly already exhausted, his eyes heavy again and his body relaxing back into the bed an inch at a time. “Promise I’ll tell you. Nothing bad…”

“Okay, okay.” Face leaned down and pressed a firm kiss to Hannibal’s lips, feeling his frustration melt away when his lover weakly tried to kiss him back. “I’ll hold you to that promise.”

And as Hannibal drifted straight back down into his drugged sleep, Murdock immediately started up with his chatter once again, voice little more than a whisper. “So, did I tell you yet about the prank Read and me pulled on Black Forest, with the whipped cream in the exhaust pipe and the chocolate sprinkles in the fireworks?” His wild eyes were apologetic, practically begging Face not to ask him any more about the mission with Macky, or about whatever agreement had been made.

For just a second, Face thought about protesting. Thought about asking Murdock anyway, demanding he be told everything, right that instant. But then he looked back down at the man he loved, and heaved a tired sigh. 

“No, buddy, you didn’t. Tell me all about it.” Face found he just couldn’t summon the energy to worry about Murdock’s deft change of topic, or Hannibal’s strange promise. Nothing bad, apparently, and really, there could be nothing worse than this, right now, this endless waiting and watching.

Whatever it was could wait, Face knew. It looked like there would be more than a few long and difficult conversations to be had once Hannibal had left the hospital.

At least he wasn’t waiting and watching alone anymore, Face told himself with a sigh, as one of his best friends distracted him thoroughly from the pain of watching the strongest man he knew trying his hardest to fight back after being reduced to a weak and easily exhausted wreck. One step at a time, he reminded himself firmly – Hannibal was out of the ICU, at least, and one step closer to coming home.


	4. Chapter 4

“It really isn’t anything bad, Temp. I promise.” Hannibal’s exhausted voice seemed loud in the quiet room, though it was little more than a whisper.

As tired as Face was, it took him a long moment to realise what his lover meant. Actually, he hadn’t even realised Hannibal was awake – the soft yet busy murmur of the hospital in the late evening was starting to lull him to sleep. Murdock should’ve been there an hour ago but he’d been delayed, and Face hadn’t wanted to leave Hannibal alone even for that long, in spite of how much better the colonel was doing now.

Face shuffled a little more upright in his chair, clearing his throat. “I thought we weren’t talking about this?” he asked softly, confused. “Whatever ‘this’ is, exactly.”

“We aren’t. Not here, at least.” Hannibal flapped one hand out from beneath the blankets, reaching for Face. The painkillers made him miserably uncoordinated, and Face moved quickly to seize that proffered hand in his own, holding it tightly.

“Well, then. I trust you, John, you know I do. If you say it’s nothing bad – ”

“It’s not.”

“ – and you promise to tell me when you can – ”

“I do.” 

“Then it doesn’t matter right now.”

Face found he was actually trying very hard not to get his hopes up – if the team had been working apart as much as it seemed, and if Read had been away training, then a small part of Face couldn’t help but wonder if this was the moment he’d been hoping for. Perhaps Hannibal had been thinking about transferring back Stateside, and the two of them could finally start their lives together properly after years in their long-distance relationship, though it was far more likely that Read was just moving on and the team would be getting a new XO. 

Whatever the reasons, the only thing that mattered was that Hannibal was able to make his own choices about what happened next. Secretly, Face was concerned that Hannibal might never be strong enough to go back to the job he loved, and the decision would be taken away from him entirely. After three surgeries, the colonel’s chest was a mess of barely healed muscle and long lines of scars, still bearing staples and stitches to hold it all together, and that was even before you looked beneath the surface. 

The damage the bullet caused to his lung would apparently heal with no long-term effects, though whether that would ever equate to Hannibal being able to pass the fitness tests for the Rangers again, Face just didn’t know. On top of all that, the damage the surgeons had repaired to the colonel’s heart and the surrounding tissues had been extensive, and Hannibal simply wasn’t a young man anymore.

More than anything, Face knew Hannibal was lucky to be alive at all. It didn’t matter to him in the slightest if Hannibal never went back into the field again – all he’d ever wanted was to have Hannibal safe and alive and happy, preferably right by his side. But could Hannibal be happy if he was forced to leave the job he loved because of an injury like this? Would a new life in the States with Face be a poor substitute for the adrenaline rush he loved so much, and had spent all of his adult life pursuing?

Face hoped desperately that he wouldn’t have to find out the answer to those questions.

Hannibal yawned, then immediately failed to hide a wince, one of the ever-present monitors beeping just a little faster before eventually settling again. “I don’t want it all to matter… Not here, kid. Not like this.”

Face half-stood, ignoring the spike of pain that shot up his stump and through his hip as he leaned over the bed to kiss Hannibal on the lips. “I know exactly what you mean, love. I have some things to talk to you about too, but not here and now.”

Morrison. It was playing more and more heavily on Face’s mind now, as Hannibal’s recovery started to move along in leaps and bounds. The longer they left it to have these conversations, of course, the harder it would be on both of them.

Immediately, though, Face could’ve kicked himself, seeing the sudden worry battling with the sheer exhaustion and pain on the colonel’s drawn features. “Are you okay? You’re not ill? Or, is it your leg?”

“I’m fine, John, I promise,” he soothed quickly, dropping another quick kiss to Hannibal’s lips before sinking back down into his chair with a barely concealed wince of his own. A wince Hannibal spotted instantly, of course, even though Face could see the older man’s eyes starting to grow heavy once again.

“Temp? Don’t lie to me.” 

“I’m not, boss. I’m really fine. I just need to get my leg off for a while.” In normal circumstances, or what passed for ‘normal’ in their relationship, a line like that would have earned him a laugh at the bare minimum, or, more likely, a pathetic innuendo about getting his leg ‘over’ instead of ‘off’. Now, it was yet another sign of just how far Hannibal still had to go in his recovery – not that Face needed any more signs – that the colonel barely grunted in response, his eyes losing the battle to stay open at long last.

Face just kept hold of his lover’s limp hand, relishing the simple yet solid contact. Hannibal was making remarkable progress, but it was still so hard to see the normally strong and unflappable colonel reduced to a shadow of his usual self. Holding Hannibal’s hand, though… Hannibal was warm, and alive, and Face could even feel the faint thrum of the older man’s steady pulse beneath the weathered skin of his palm.

Just when he thought Hannibal had fallen back to sleep, the limp fingers in his own suddenly tightened fractionally. “I’m just so tired, Temp,” came the weak slur, and Face had to swallow hard as the emotions threatened to choke him. “I hate this so much. We need to talk, but I can’t…”

“Not here, John. It’s okay – nothing else is important right now.” Pushing back up from the chair, Face managed to perch himself on the very edge of the hospital bed, by Hannibal’s hip – the nurses would tell him off next time they did their rounds, but for now, this position allowed him to keep hold of his lover’s hand while reaching to stroke his fingers through the silver-grey hair on Hannibal’s head. “If you’re tired, go to sleep. Whatever we need to talk about can wait. All I really need to tell you right now is that I love you, and all that matters is that you rest and get better so I can take you home.”

“I want to go home. Please, Templeton, baby – take me home?”

Again, the rising tide of emotions threatened to choke Face. “Soon, love,” he whispered, as Hannibal’s fingers finally did fall lax in his grip. “Soon, I promise.”

Within moments Hannibal was asleep again, the faint lines of pain and worry easing from around his eyes. Looking down at the man he loved, it suddenly occurred to Face that his lover looked old in a way he never normally did – there was a rough, scratchy beard forming on Hannibal’s unshaven chin, and his hair was already longer than Face had seen it for quite some time. Seeing the colonel like this was wrong in every sense of the word, and Face decided immediately that he would get Bosco to bring in his shaving kit tomorrow. 

All the big issues they needed to talk about could wait – there was nothing to be gained right then by telling Hannibal about his old friend’s death, just as there was nothing to be done even if Face knew what plans had been going through Hannibal’s mind recently, with the team’s activities. If Hannibal might really be thinking about stepping away from front-line work, and being with Face all the time.

Face wasn’t sure he was ready to know, either way. But it wouldn’t get any easier. The longer they waited, the more difficult it would be to find a way to even start those conversations, let alone carry them through to the end.


	5. Chapter 5

“You look like you need this more than me.”

Face looked up, startled, as Tom Read slid a pot of chocolate pudding in front of him and dropped down into the opposite chair with a small smile. He’d been sitting in the hospital canteen pushing his lunch around on the plate for what seemed like hours, grateful of the time just to sit by himself and not have to think about anything or anyone. The meatloaf had looked good when he’d picked it up, but Face had found he just wasn’t hungry.

There was always room for chocolate pudding, though. “Thanks, man,” he mumbled, tearing the lid from the plastic pot and accepting the spoon Read held out to him. “Wasn’t expecting to see you ‘til later.”

Face had reluctantly left Hannibal back in his room with the occupational therapists, who were trying to get him up out of bed and sitting upright in a chair for the first time. He’d wanted to stay, but Hannibal’s room was small and there had barely been room for the three medics and their equipment. The therapists needed to see exactly how much work the colonel had to do before he could even think about coming home, though at least that was finally on the horizon, perhaps in as little as another week or so.

It was better news than Face could have hoped for. Hannibal’s strength was coming along in leaps and bounds, his injuries healing exactly as expected, though there was still miles to go before they could even think about getting him back out in the field. One small step at a time, Face kept reminding his stubborn lover. Out of bed first, then home, then light duties, then back out to the front lines. It could all take months of hard work and patience.

One step at a time, Face reminded himself again, feeling Read’s sharp eyes watching him as he mechanically ate his pudding. Just one small step at a time, and don’t think about the worst case scenario – that Hannibal might never be fit enough for active duty again. 

“I was hoping to catch you alone for a few minutes, actually,” the other captain told him, wrapping both hands around the mug of coffee Face hadn’t even noticed. “I’ve had some unexpected news, and I need to tell you a few things, too. If that’s okay?”

Face shook his head slowly, his mind still back upstairs in Hannibal’s hospital room. “Tom, I don’t… Do we have to do this now?”

“I’m afraid so. I don’t have a lot of time.” That snapped Face’s head up in an instant, and for the first time he really looked at the other man. Read was in BDUs, a bulging kitbag on the floor by the side of the table. How on Earth had Face missed that? 

He realised the implications immediately, of course. “You’re being sent out, aren’t you?”

Read nodded, lifting his mug and taking a long sip before answering. “I’m on a flight in two hours. I was hoping to sneak in to see the boss before I go, though I’m not sure that’ll be possible.”

“Back to Iraq?” The instant the words left Face’s lips he saw Read flinch slightly, and realised his mistake. “Sorry, forget I asked. I know how it works.” Classified, most likely, and the other man gave him a quirk of a smile and half a nod in thanks.

“New team,” Read told him. “I knew it was coming, but I didn’t think it would be this soon. Not like this. I wanted to stick around and see Hannibal get back on his feet first.”

A few more of the missing pieces started to slot into place in Face’s tired brain. The training courses Murdock had mentioned. The times the team hadn’t been working together. It all added up to one thing – “When’s your promotion going to be made official?”

A soft laugh from the other man. “I should’ve known you’d put two and two together. I don’t think even BA and Murdock know yet. It’ll hopefully be official in another month or so. It was meant to be signed off by the General, but now…”

“Ah, of course.” Morrison’s death would have held up a lot of things, naturally. God, he still had to tell Hannibal about that – Face knew he couldn’t put it off much longer, but even the thought of having that conversation made him feel sick to his stomach. Perhaps he’d waited far too long. “Well, in case I don’t see you for a while: Congratulations, Major Read.” Face held out his hand across the table and Read shook it gladly. 

“It’ll be you next,” he told Face with a smile.

“Me?” Face snorted, “I’m lucky to even have made Captain. This’ll do me just fine, thank you.”

For a moment they just looked at each other across the table. They weren’t close friends, but Face had a lot of respect for the other man. It couldn’t have been easy for Tom Read, trying to slot into a team as bizarre as Hannibal’s at such a difficult time. Hannibal had been in a dark place after the incident which had cost Face most of his left leg, and Murdock and BA had struggled to keep everything going with their friend gone. Read had somehow been able to integrate himself without too much difficulty, filling Face’s shoes as well as he could and picking up a lot of the slack, and the team had gone from strength to strength in their years with him as XO.

As if reading Face’s thoughts, Read suddenly barked a brief laugh. “It’s been a wild few years with those guys. I’ve learned a lot. From Hannibal, especially; he’s quite something.”

“Oh, he’s certainly something, all right.” If this was the last time Face was going to see Read for the foreseeable future, he realised there were things he needed to say. He squared his shoulders, sitting up a little straighter, and looked the other Captain in the eye. “Tom, thank you. For looking after him all these years. For keeping him safe. I know from experience that he’s not the easiest man to predict or to work with, and as for Murdock and BA – ”

“You don’t have to thank me. Really. It’s been my honour.” Read met Face’s gaze squarely in return as he added, “And really, I should be thanking you. You’ve helped us all time and again, sending us intel and supplies even when it wasn’t your job, and keeping himself in cigars. And you’ve always been generous with your advice to me – you’re right, Hannibal isn’t the easiest man to predict, but knowing your tricks and tips made everything a lot easier. You didn’t have to share those with me, so thank you.”

There had never been a single moment when Face hadn’t wanted to help Tom Read as the other man tried to fit in with his old team. There had been no point Face being jealous that he couldn’t be out there by Hannibal’s side, where he should have been. Nothing to be gained by letting Read flounder, and everything to be gained by making sure he knew the best and simplest ways to keep Hannibal safe and happy while in the field.

“How about we call it evens?” he suggested, and Read nodded, leaning over to clap Face on the shoulder briefly.

“Done, and done.” For a moment, the easy camaraderie held, but then Read turned serious. “Look, I know you still haven’t heard the full mission details. About what happened.”

“I know enough,” Face cut in quickly. “More than enough, in fact.” Bits and pieces had inevitably slipped out over the last few weeks, as Murdock and BA had lowered their guard, and even Hannibal had mentioned a few things too as the strongest of the drugs were gradually cut down, though Face’s conversations with his lover had generally been far more light-hearted and steered carefully away from any mention of fighting.

From what he’d gathered, it had been an undercover mission of sorts, the team out alone with little in the way of weaponry and nothing in the way of body armour. They’d somehow ended up escorting a truck full of ammunition and a group of terrified civilians fleeing local warlords; the kind of messed up situation only Hannibal’s team could have found themselves in the middle of.

Read lowered his voice and leaned forwards, and Face found himself leaning in too. It was all technically classified, of course, though they both knew Face could find the details himself with a few quick searches and a word or two in the right ear. This was something personal, though, he could tell. Something that almost certainly wouldn’t be found on any mission report.

“I want – I don’t – ” Read stuttered to a stop, a low growl of frustration escaping, to Face’s surprise. “I don’t want to leave without explaining something of what went on out there. It feels to me like you should know what it was like. What happened.”

“I know enough,” Face said again, more firmly. “I’ve been on missions like that one, time and time again. I know how quickly things can change.” In the blink of an eye, a straightforward mission could turn bad, and all Hannibal’s carefully laid plans could turn to smoke.

“I didn’t see him. If I’d seen him, the sniper, then I would’ve done some things differently, Face. I saw him just a second after Hannibal did, and I would’ve done the exact same thing he did – he stepped into the line of fire in order to prevent the ammo being hit. It was the only decision possible, at the time.”

“I know. I don’t like it, but I understand – if the ammo had gone up, all of you would have gone up right along with it. The civilians would’ve been on their own, or dead. There was no other choice, man. I get it.” Face still wasn’t sure what Read was actually trying to tell him. He hated the fact that Hannibal had been forced to take the action he had, but he understood the motivation and reasoning behind it. 

Read’s face grew anguished, his gaze dropping to the table. “If I could have got there first I would’ve done, I swear. If I could’ve pushed him out of the way and taken those bullets instead of him, I would’ve done it, Face. I promise, if I could’ve saved him from this…”

Ah. There it was. Read was blaming himself. A natural reaction, of course, especially when his CO had been so critically wounded. Face should have seen that weeks ago, when the team first arrived back in the states. He should’ve taken care of Hannibal’s team while Hannibal himself was in no condition to do so.

“Easy, Tom. I know, man, I know you would’ve done.” Trying to pour every ounce of sincerity possible into his words, Face reached out and squeezed the other man’s hand where it lay on the table. “Hannibal knows that too. It wasn’t your fault. You did everything you could do, by getting him back home. You saved his life.”

Read didn’t seem convinced, though. “We had Murdock on the way in to evacuate the civilians, and we’d put distance between ourselves and any known threat. There was no reason to think there was an immediate threat. We were as safe as we could have been. Or, that was what I’d thought. I should’ve known better.”

Safe was all relative, in war, but to Face it did sound as if every precaution had been taken in a truly dangerous situation. Hindsight was always a bitch, though. “You did everything you could do, Tom. It really wasn’t your fault.”

The other man held himself stiffly for a moment more, before suddenly seeming to deflate before Face’s eyes. With a nod and a smile, Read heaved a quiet sigh and let his shoulders drop. Face just watched and waited, wondering what else he could possibly say. Wondering if he’d said enough. Wondering what other words of comfort and forgiveness Hannibal might have added, if Read had gone to him with his fears.

Another nod from Read, more decisive this time, and he looked up to meet Face’s gaze. The two men who had been Hannibal Smith’s XO shared a knowing glance and smiled in unison, before Read stood up from the table, holding his hand out to Face once again.

Pushing carefully to his feet, Face stepped around the table and used that hand to pull the other captain into a brief yet firm hug instead, oddly relieved when Read leaned into the embrace. “Good luck out there, Tom. Stay safe, okay? Keep your head down and your eyes open. And stay in touch whenever you can.”

“Will do. And good luck to you, too. I think you might need it more than I do, once Hannibal’s out of bed for good.” Read reached down and heaved his kitbag up from the floor. “Now, I’m going to see if I can’t pop my head around the boss’s door for two seconds, then I need to find those other two crazy fools quickly.”

Read snapped him a jaunty little salute and shouldered his bag, starting to head out of the canteen, stopping when Face called out, “Tom, wait.”

“Face?”

“Do you know who the new XO is?” If Read had known he was going sooner or later, if he’d had time to go on courses and training exercises, then plans had to have been put into place. Obviously, with Hannibal on long-term medical leave those plans would probably have to change, but still…

Read just offered Face an apologetic bob of the head, but no name. “I know Hannibal wanted to be the one to tell you all about it, but this came up sooner than anyone expected,” he explained quickly. “And I don’t think he wants to have that conversation in the hospital, though I don’t think you should wait much longer to make him talk to you. Ask him, okay?” And with that, the other captain was gone, leaving Face to wonder what exactly was going on.

With Read leaving, there seemed no reason to put off those difficult conversations any longer. At least it finally shot down Face’s hopes that Hannibal might have been transferring back to the States; he should’ve known that was only a distant dream, and never allowed himself to start hoping.

Swallowing down his inevitable disappointment, the only question in Face’s mind now was whether it was still best to wait until Hannibal was home, or whether to have it all out here in the hospital. Dropping back down into his seat, staring at the cold mess of meatloaf and the half-eaten pot of chocolate pudding, for the first time since Hannibal had been flown back to the country, Face really didn’t know what to do for the best. 

He suspected Read was right, though. He shouldn’t wait much longer. Perhaps the time had come.


	6. Chapter 6

Face found he had absolutely no idea where to begin, now he’d finally decided the time had come for them to talk. Even if Hannibal might still be resistant to the idea, Read’s departure had made it painfully clear to Face that they shouldn’t wait any longer; there would probably be far too much to cover in one conversation, but they needed to get some things out in the open. Now, he sat facing Hannibal in his lover’s small hospital room, both of them in high-backed chairs close by the side of the bed, staring at each other in an expectant yet not uncomfortable silence.

Seeing Hannibal out of bed and sitting up was an incredible relief, after so many weeks spent watching him lying helpless in the ICU and then slowly recovering in this private room. The colonel was still pale and drawn, but he was clean-shaven now and dressed in tracksuit pants and a loose t-shirt which hid the bandages Face knew were still wrapped around his chest. There were dark circles present beneath blue-grey eyes, but those eyes were alive and alert, surprisingly bright and clear after everything Hannibal had suffered through.

All in all, the sight nearly brought tears to Face’s own eyes, and it lifted a heavy weight from his shoulders that he hadn’t realised was still there. But it didn’t make it any easier to find the right words to start the conversations they’d both delayed for too long.

In the end, Hannibal offered Face a lopsided grin and shook his head slowly. “You talked to Tom Read,” he said abruptly, his gruff words a definite statement rather than a question.

That was as good a starting point as any, maybe. “I did. New team, promotion, flight out this afternoon.” Hannibal nodded once, and Face took a deep breath before continuing, keeping his words carefully measured. “A little bit of a surprise, that. Something we should have talked about, perhaps.”

“Perhaps. But you’re right; it was sudden. He’s ready for it, though, and I know he’s going to go on to do great things. I want to say that I’m sorry for not telling you sooner, but…” A half-shrug, and Face understood exactly what Hannibal wasn’t saying.

“We’ve neither of us been talking about a lot of things, I know. Your health was, and still is, the most important thing, let’s face it. It never seemed like the time or the place, not here, not with you so badly hurt.”

“I’m doing better, now, Temp. I’ll be home next week.”

“I hope so. I really hope so.” The doctors thought there was a good chance of it, certainly, now Hannibal was out of bed and free from most of his wires and monitors. Face had tried to be so strong and steady throughout the whole time his lover had been hospitalised – nearly seven weeks now in total – but he allowed his guard to drop enough to admit, “I’ve missed you so much.”

Hannibal held out a hand and Face leaned forwards just enough to take it in both of his own, squeezing tightly and letting the contact ground him. He resisted the urge to lean closer still and steal a quick kiss, knowing in his heart that they needed to stay focussed rather than allowing themselves to get distracted.

“So, where do we start?” Hannibal quirked one eyebrow in genuine question, tilting his head a fraction and leaving Face to think for a moment. They both knew Read had gone, and while the question of what would happen to the rest of the team was uppermost in Face’s mind, there was one more important thing he really needed to say before they got into that. 

“Why don’t I go first? There’s something I really have to tell you. I should’ve told you earlier, perhaps, but… I don’t know how to begin. I don’t know how you’ll react.” He’d always favoured the direct approach, particularly with bad news. Take a deep breath and just say it plain, no beating around the bush or coddling the recipient. “It’s about Russell Morrison.”

The grip on Face’s hand tightened imperceptibly, and a shadow passed over Hannibal’s grey features. In a barely audible voice, the colonel whispered, “I already know, kid.”

Well, that was about the last thing Face had ever expected to hear.

“What?” He was on his feet in an instant, feeling only slightly guilty when Hannibal winced as he turned too quickly trying to follow Face with his eyes. He tried to keep his voice calm, not wanting to bring the ever-vigilant nurses rushing into the room. “What do you mean, you ‘already know’? What, exactly, do you know, John?”

“That he’s dead. That there was a mission that should’ve belonged to me and the boys, and that Black Forest screwed everything up. That Russ was killed. That he was buried in Arlington.” Hannibal’s voice was steady, surprisingly, until it cracked ever so slightly on those last few words. 

It was that slight crack that dropped Face back down into his chair, horrified at his own reaction. For weeks he’d been desperately worried about the best way to tell his lover about the death of one of his oldest friends, and now it turned out that, somehow, Hannibal already knew. 

“Who told you?” he asked softly, sadly. “I wanted… I thought it should come from me, when you were strong enough to hear it.”

A shrug, another wince. “It doesn’t matter now, does it? I always knew something like this could happen one day; we’re soldiers, Temp, any one of us could be killed on any given day.” 

“But to go out like that… He deserved more.” 

Face hadn’t known Morrison well, and hadn’t worked with him at all in the years since the loss of his leg, but he felt as if he knew him through hearing Hannibal’s stories. He could almost picture the challenging young lieutenant Hannibal would have been, and the gruff then-Major Morrison taking him in hand. He’d often wondered if there might have been something more between the two men, though he knew he would never have the courage to ask Hannibal about it. And even if there had been something, it was all ancient history now.

For just a moment, Hannibal looked truly devastated, his face crumpling in grief. But then, as Face watched helplessly, he pulled himself together and breathed out a single, long breath. 

“He did deserve more. If anyone deserved to go out in a blaze of glory, it was Russ. Not in an explosion inside the FOB. There’s more to the story, I think.” Face had thought the same thing, admittedly, though he hadn’t put much effort into digging deeper yet. Hannibal frowned, continuing, “I can’t help but wonder, if I’d been there, if it had been my team rather than those Black Forest monkeys – ”

“You can’t think like that,” Face cut in immediately. “You said it yourself: things happen in war. Bad things. But we move past them; I’m living proof of that, and now so are you. Don’t get lost in what-ifs.”

Hannibal suddenly smiled at him, eyes softer and full of the love Face knew they felt for each other. “When did you get to be so wise, Captain Peck?” he whispered, and Face gave in to the need to lean over for a quick kiss.

“When I lost my leg, and my handsome Colonel somehow fell in love with me anyway,” he murmured against Hannibal’s lips.

“Your Colonel had been in love with you for a long time. I hope you know that.”

And that led Face’s thoughts to something far less pleasant even than Morrison’s death. Take the direct approach, he reminded himself again sternly. “And yet you still took your life in your hands, stepping into the line of fire like you did, without even a thought for me.”

“Face… Templeton…” Hannibal had the decency to look slightly abashed, at least, and Face immediately felt terrible. His lover was barely weeks into a recovery that could take months, after being shot twice in the line of duty doing the job he was paid to do. The job he was brilliant at. The job Face had sworn to always support, even if it meant the two of them couldn’t be together all the time.

“No, no, I’m sorry. God, I’m so sorry.” He pushed on quickly before Hannibal could interrupt. “I’ve always tried not to do that. I’ve always understood why you have to do the things you do; I was a Ranger myself for years, after all. I’ve never wanted to put any pressure on you to stop doing the job you love. I’ve never asked you to give it all up and move back home with me permanently, and I’m not asking that now. But hearing that you deliberately stepped into the line of fire like that, that you nearly died because of it…” 

Face felt his throat closing up and could only shake his head, swallowing hard. Hannibal gave him a long moment to recover before speaking next, his own voice tight with emotion.

“I had no choice. If I hadn’t done what I did then all of us could have been killed. I wouldn’t have been able to come home to you at all.”

Face swallowed hard yet again. “I know that. I do, I really do. But it can’t change the way I feel. I’m sorry. Forget it, please, John. Just… promise me you won’t do it again, okay? Not if there is even the tiniest hint of another way to deal with things. I don’t think I could cope if I lost you and I wasn’t there.” 

Hannibal nodded, though it didn’t escape Face’s notice that he didn’t actually say the words out loud. “So what now?” the colonel said instead, a clear attempt to change the subject. “Read, and the boys?”

With a sigh, Face decided to let it go, for now at least. “Read’s already gone, Hannibal. He’ll be on his flight and off to join his new team by now.” He gathered his thoughts briefly, not wanting to get into a fight if they could possibly avoid it. “I think I can understand why no one told me about it – he said it happened very quickly in the end. But what happens next for the rest of you? I mean, you’ll be on medical leave for a long time yet, and BA and Murdock will have to go back to active duty sooner rather than later.”

“They’ve been working with Major Bob MacAllister on and off, while Tom was away training. I hope they’ll be sent back to work with him; I’ll have to see if I can pull some strings from here, and maybe you could help too. They were getting on well, and Bob didn’t seem all that fazed by their… shall we say, quirks?”

Face had to laugh at that. “’Quirks’ sounds about right to me. And what about you? You know you’ve got a way to go before you can even think about getting back out in the field with them, right? And you know I’ll knock you flat on your ass if you so much as think about pushing yourself too hard or too fast, prosthetic leg or not?”

“I promise I’ll be good, Temp. I want to get the hell out of this hospital and be home with you, and that’s all I care about right now. I’ll do everything the doctors tell me to do, and I’ll take it easy, so long as you can be right there with me.” Hannibal was visibly starting to fade a little, his eyelids growing heavy and his skin a little more pale than Face would like.

“Nowhere else in the world I’d rather be, lover,” he whispered, squeezing Hannibal’s hand again. “Nowhere else at all.”

“Everything else can wait, right? The details, and the who said what to who, and when?”

“I guess it can. As long as you’re really okay about the General, for now?”

Another shrug, and a more obvious wince. Another brief flash of sadness in tired eyes, and an admission Face didn’t think he would hear: “I’m not okay about it, not even remotely. But I can’t change it now, can I? He’s gone, and I’m still here. With you. And that’s enough, for now. For me.”

“I agree; it really is enough.” Face stood and moved closer to his lover. “And with that, let’s get you back into bed, okay?” 

Carefully, mindful of the heavy bandaging around Hannibal’s chest and the IV lines still hooked into place, Face helped his colonel shuffle out of the chair and back over to the bed. By the time he had Hannibal lying back again with a blanket tucked around his legs, the injured man was practically grey, his breath coming in slightly wheezing gasps, and Face instinctively reached up to press the ‘call’ button for the nurse.

“Easy, love,” he whispered, stroking his fingers gently down Hannibal’s cheek. “Breathe slowly now.”

“I hate this,” Hannibal gasped, and Face pressed a firm kiss to a sweaty forehead.

“I know, I know. You just have to be patient. We’ll get you back out in the field, John, we will. I know that’s what you want, isn’t it?”

But the nurses arrived before Hannibal could answer, forcing Face to step back and let them tend to the man he loved.


	7. Chapter 7

Home. Finally, Hannibal was home again, in the small yet perfectly-formed house he and Face had bought together nearly five years ago.

It had been six long months since he’d last sat on their over-stuffed sofa, two of those spent in hospital, and at last Hannibal was stretched out on it, his tired body sinking gratefully into the soft cushions. The whole place had a slight air of neglect which wasn’t normally present, with a thin layer of dust visible on the coffee table and the mantelpiece – Face had been virtually living at the hospital with him, of course, even though he’d been surprisingly good about going home on a semi-regular basis. Hannibal knew he owed huge thanks to Murdock and BA, and the absent Read, for making sure Face took care of himself rather than running himself entirely into the ground while Hannibal had been hospitalised.

He shifted cautiously against the cushions and pillows Face had piled behind his back, adjusting the fleecy blanket wrapped around his legs. Even those slight movements made him wince, and he bit back the urge to hiss in pain, knowing any such sound would bring his lover running back into the room. Face had the sharpest hearing of anyone Hannibal knew.

From outside, Face’s voice could be heard drifting through the open window, still talking to Murdock and BA who were finally leaving for the day. Hannibal didn’t mean to be ungrateful, but he’d started to wonder if his other two men would ever go. All he wanted was to be home again, and to be alone with his lover at last. 

It had certainly been a team effort to get him home from the hospital at all, though he’d gritted his teeth and tried to behave as well as he could, for Face’s sake more than his own – the doctors had argued strenuously in favour of keeping him in for at least another week, but Hannibal had fought his corner. He was up and moving around now, albeit slower and weaker than he’d like, and he could rest in his own bed just as well as he could rest in the hospital. Probably far better, in fact, with Face lying beside him right where he should be, a warm and comforting presence.

Face had stayed carefully quiet during Hannibal’s argument with the doctors, though both BA and Murdock had pitched in to try to get Hannibal to stay in a little longer. He’d have his revenge on them for that, at some point in the future, though he knew they both meant well.

Face had actually been staying carefully quiet on a lot of topics, and Hannibal was worried his lover was keeping too much bottled up inside. That was something Face had used to do when he was younger, though since the two of them had finally become a couple they had both been better at talking things through; they’d had to be, since they spent so much time apart. Hannibal was all too aware that Face was trying to keep him happy and stress-free, in spite of his own worries. He loved the younger man dearly, but sometimes he just wished that Face would be a bit more selfish, and speak up for himself.

Hannibal would have to admit, though, that he’d hardly been the most open and sharing partner himself recently. Even after the two of them had finally talked about Russ’s death and the immediate future of Hannibal’s fractured Alpha unit, back in that tiny hospital room, neither of them had really mentioned the first subject again. But, in their own ways, both of them had gone to work to solve the second issue; thanks to Face’s numerous contacts and one smuggled mobile phone which allowed Hannibal to help out, BA and Murdock were due to rejoin Major MacAllister’s team in a week or two, as Hannibal had always hoped.

If he took Russ’s death out of the picture, all Hannibal’s plans were coming together, actually, apart from the one small complication he could really have done without: two bullets to the chest. It still hurt, and he knew it would hurt for a long time to come; his chest was tight, and it was painful to breathe too deeply, though he had to breathe deep to stave off infection. His heartbeat felt too hard and far too fast beneath his ribcage, even though the doctors had told him time and again that everything was normal. On top of all that, he was easily exhausted and felt he could sleep for a year, though he certainly hadn’t admitted that to the doctors. No, Hannibal had told them he was just fine, raring to go. Ready for duty, even.

Face saw right through him, experienced con-artist that he was. Hannibal hadn’t even tried to lie to the man he loved about his health, and hadn’t lied at all, in fact, though he might have been… economical with the truth, at times. There was still one important fact he hadn’t mentioned at all. One secret still to be told, something he’d planned as a surprise for his lover and was determined to keep that way, if only for a little while longer now.

From the window, the sound of Face’s voice grew a little louder as he laughed and joked with his two closest friends. It was so good to hear him laugh after so many weeks of worry, and Hannibal huffed a laugh of his own before immediately regretting it as a spike of burning pain shot through his battered chest. 

He rubbed one hand gingerly over the thick sweater Face had bundled him into, unable to feel the thin dressings over his healing injuries though he was very much aware of their presence. He still had more than a dozen external stitches, and twice as many internally – no wonder it hurt, Hannibal thought ruefully, closing his eyes and sinking his head back into the pillows as he finally heard the sound of ‘goodbyes’ from outside.

“Finally – thought they’d never leave!” Face sounded falsely cheerful, Hannibal thought, keeping his eyes closed and just listening to the comforting sounds of his lover moving around their living room. “At long last I have you all to myself.”

“About bloody time,” Hannibal grumbled good-naturedly in response, cracking open an eye as Face came to a stop in the middle of the room, arms folded over that muscular chest Hannibal loved so much. “Now, come here and lie down with me for a little while.”

“Sofa’s not big enough for the two of us, John.” Face came closer anyway, dropping down to perch on the edge of the coffee table, one hand rubbing at his left thigh just above where his prosthetic was attached. 

“We’ve fit before. Come on, please?”

But Face shook his head, biting at his lower lip in a way Hannibal knew meant he was worrying too much and thinking too hard. “Are you sure you’re okay? You should be in bed, according to the doctors. You have to rest.”

“I should still be in the hospital, according to them.”

“Well, maybe you should be.” Face immediately looked horrified at his own words, and started to adjust Hannibal’s blanket in an obvious attempt at redirection. “It’s not that I don’t want you here,” he mumbled, and Hannibal’s recovering heart nearly broke. “It’s not that at all. It’s so good to have you home, really, and I know you promised you’d behave. You’ve got nurses coming in twice a day to check on you, and I didn’t mean – ”

“Take a breath, Face.” Hannibal pushed his lover’s hands away from the blanket, already sweating in his thick layers; it was spring in Georgia, not the middle of Antarctica. “I will behave, and I know everyone will be keeping an eye on me, especially you. It’ll drive me mad, but I’ll try to be good. I just – I needed to be at home. With you.”

There had been many moments in the last few weeks when Hannibal honestly hadn’t been sure if he’d make it home at all. He knew he was lucky in far too many ways to count – he remembered nothing of the moment the bullets hit him, but he distinctly remembered making the split-second decision that had told him to step to his right, into the line of fire.

He remembered nothing of the two weeks he’d apparently spent in an Army hospital in Germany, and very little of his early days back at Benning. He did remember Face’s pale, drawn features hovering over him, those baby blue eyes rimmed in red and heavy stubble visible on his strong jawline.

When he’d learned the full extent of his injuries, Hannibal had understood just why Face had looked so terrible, and he’d felt the full weight of guilt land heavily on his shoulders at everything he’d put his lover through. There had simply been no other way, and he knew that Face would understand that, given time. Hannibal had survived, and he was home now, and they would have the rest of their lives to spend together. He’d have the chance to make it up to Face, somehow – he wasn’t good with words or explanations, not for something as important and personal as this, so his actions would have to count for something instead.

Hannibal had known just how much it would hurt Face to find out he’d stepped deliberately into the line of fire; he’d had time to think about that, in those endless seconds before it had all gone dark. The last thing he did remember clearly, after taking that step to his right, was wondering who would be the one to tell Face about his death. Then, nothing.

“Hey, Hannibal? John? You with me, love?”

Strong yet tender fingers traced a line along his jaw, and Hannibal blinked back into focus to see Face frowning at him.

“Of course I’m with you.” He reached up to capture those roving fingers in his own. “I’m right here. And I’m not going anywhere.”

At his words, a bright smile lit up his lover’s tired face. “Good,” Face told him decisively, leaning in and giving him a quick kiss. “Now, do you need anything? Painkillers? Water? Food?” But before Hannibal could answer, there was a sudden knock at the door, followed immediately by the bell ringing. Face cursed softly beneath his breath, giving Hannibal another kiss before pushing up to his feet and moving away. “I swear, if that’s Murdock or Bosco again, then I might actually kill one of them…”

Hannibal just sighed, smiling with the sheer happiness and relief of being home, where he belonged. Face seemed to think they had lots still to talk about, but to Hannibal, none of it was really important, not in the grand scheme of things. Hannibal would explain how he had found out about Russ, about the nurse who had passed on her apologies about the General’s death and had been mortified when she realised Hannibal hadn’t known. He would tell Face that yes, of course he was upset, devastated in fact, but he had accepted a long time ago that it was highly unlikely both he and Russ would make it to retirement. 

He didn’t quite know how to tell Face that he wasn’t sure Russ was actually dead, though. But it would be someone else’s problem to solve, not his, and not his former team either. 

Hannibal would never be able to apologise for stepping into the line of fire the day he had been shot, because he wasn’t sorry and he couldn’t be, although he would spend the rest of his life making sure he never hurt Face that way ever again. The rest of his life – that was such an incredible and overwhelming thought, almost enough to take the rest of the lingering pain of his injuries away. And Face would know, soon, perhaps in a day or two.

“John?” Face was suddenly standing in the door to the hallway, a large brown envelope in his hands. “I don’t understand.”

Oh. Already? Well, that was sooner than Hannibal had ever expected, and he desperately wished he was a little stronger. A little more recovered. He took a slow, deep breath and plastered his best ‘innocent’ face on. “Who was it, Temp? Everything okay?”

“It’s for you. I told the Corporal that you were on indefinite medical leave, but he insisted it was for you.” Face looked a little confused, and more than a little angry, and for the very first time Hannibal wondered if perhaps this had been the best plan after all. “It can’t be orders, surely? They wouldn’t do that. I swear, Hannibal, if its orders, if they’re trying to get you back out there already when you can’t even stand – ”

“Breathe, kid. It’s not what you think. Open it.”

Face just held the envelope out in front of him as if he didn’t really want to touch it at all. “But, it’s for you,” he said again, suddenly sounding young and unsure in a way that reminded Hannibal of the boy he’d been when they had first met, all those years earlier.

“Trust me. Open it.” 

Slowly, with visibly shaking hands, he watched Face carefully peel open the envelope, though the younger man stopped before pulling the contents out into the open and glanced up sharply at Hannibal with blue eyes that shone suspiciously bright. “Please tell me this isn’t something bad. I don’t think… John, I can’t cope with anything else…”

Again, Hannibal wished he had more of his strength back. He wished more than almost anything that he could stand and walk the few short steps over to where his lover stood, to pull the smaller man into his arms and kiss those messy caramel curls. Instead, all he could do was offer what he hoped was a reassuring smile, and shift helplessly against his pillows, cursing the damn sniper who had tried to kill his whole team and a group of innocent civilians. 

“Trust me,” he whispered, and Face nodded once, pulling out a sheaf of papers and dropping his eyes to start reading the top sheet.

And he kept reading, flicking quickly onto the next sheet, then the next. Hannibal could see Face’s breathing pick up speed, an adorable frown of confusion forming, and the silence between them grew heavy.

After what seemed like hours, Face spoke, his voice void of all emotion and blue eyes still fixed on the paperwork. “What is this?”

“Surprise?” Hannibal tried, his heart pounding faster and harder than ever. Could he have really made the wrong decision, after all? He’d been so sure he was making the right decision, for both of them, so certain that Face would want this every bit as much as Hannibal did. “And, happy belated Valentine’s day?”

And finally, finally, Face smiled.


	8. Chapter 8

It couldn’t be, surely. Face stared in amazement at the sheaf of paperwork in his hands, fully expecting the words printed there to blur and merge, reforming into something else. Something that wasn’t everything he wanted. Everything he hadn’t dared to let himself dream of.

Retirement papers.

“Hannibal…” He swallowed hard as his smile faded a fraction, completely unable to tear his eyes away from the documents he held. “Is this real?”

A soft, nervous laugh from the man on the sofa. “Yes. It’s real.”

So many thoughts raced through Face’s mind, each one of them fighting for attention and all seeming equally important. And he still couldn’t tear his eyes away from the papers in his hands.

“Is it because… Not because of all this, surely?” ‘This’ being his lover’s recent injuries, of course, and Face waved one hand vaguely in the direction of the sofa where Hannibal lay, propped up on pillows and wrapped in a blanket. 

It wasn’t what he really wanted to ask, though. What Face really wanted to say couldn’t quite be spoken aloud, not yet, in case it burst the bubble of whatever incredible dream this all was.

Is it because of me?

“Look at the date,” Hannibal told him, his voice softer than Face could ever remember hearing it, outside of the bedroom. “Just look at the date, Temp.”

It wasn’t on the first page, and Face had to flick quickly through the sheets to find the date he somehow knew Hannibal meant him to see. The date when Hannibal had first put in his request for retirement.

“Eight months ago.” Stunned, Face finally managed to lift his eyes and look across to where Hannibal was watching him nervously. “You put in for retirement eight months ago.”

Hannibal nodded. “Just after my last leave,” he explained, at the very same moment Face worked that out for himself. Months before the mission where Hannibal had been shot twice by that damned sniper. “It was meant to be a surprise for you, for Valentine’s Day.”

“For me? But not because of me, John, surely?” Face couldn’t raise his voice louder than a whisper, adding, “I would never have asked you to do that for me.”

All these long years, he’d tried so hard not to put any pressure on Hannibal to come out of the field. Face had always wanted his lover to move back home with him permanently, but it had to be Hannibal’s own choice, and he’d never dared to dream that Hannibal might take full retirement, not straight away at least. 

At best, he’d hoped his Colonel might transfer back Stateside, either taking an intel or training position at Fort Benning, or perhaps even transferring to the Pentagon so the two of them could split their time between Washington and Georgia. Or Face could have transferred as well, giving them both a fresh start somewhere new; he would have done that willingly, for Hannibal, even though he was happily settled at Benning and loved his current job almost more than he’d loved his time in the Rangers. Almost more, but not quite.

Face was desperately worried that, in spite of his aim never to put pressure on his lover about his career or their future together, he might have ended up doing exactly that. His fear was that Hannibal would resent him for it, in years to come if not immediately, and their lives together would be doomed before they’d even properly begun.

Hannibal’s next words seemed to confirm Face’s worst fears, at first. “Yes, for you, and because of you. But more than that, for me. For us.” 

“For us?” Face couldn’t wrap his head around that concept at first. “Hannibal, I’m not sure…” He shook his head, eyes drifting back to the paperwork again. The word ‘retirement’ stared back up at him, unmoving and fixed, amazing and wonderful.

“Unless… this isn’t something you want?” Hannibal’s tentative, almost heartbroken words snapped Face’s head back up again, a gasp of shock slipping from his lips.

“This is everything I’ve ever wanted,” he insisted quickly, seeing the immediate relief on his lover’s tense face. “It’s everything I never thought I could have. Not for years and years yet, anyway. I just don’t want you to feel like you have to do this, for me.”

“For both of us,” Hannibal said again, face pale and eyes visibly damp. “Leaving you behind was getting too difficult. Every time I came home to you, I never wanted to leave, and I could see it in your eyes, too, though you never said a word out loud – you didn’t want me to leave either. Am I right?”

Face felt his throat close up with emotion, and could barely manage a single nod.

“As much as I always tried to stay focussed on the job, my thoughts kept coming back here to you, while I was out there in the field. Wondering what you were doing, how your day was going. If you were safe. If you were happy. One day, I knew that might lead to me being distracted at a crucial moment and something going terribly wrong.”

Sudden, gut-wrenching terror. “Is that what – ?” 

“That’s not what happened this time, Face, don’t think that for a moment. I was one hundred percent focussed on the mission, we all were.” Hannibal held his gaze, blue-grey eyes burning with intensity, and Face could see the truth written there. “This was just shitty timing, and a bad set of circumstances. I was more concerned about the future, if it all kept getting harder. I’m not getting any younger, either.”

Taking a deep breath, Face nodded again, his grip tightening around the paperwork he still held. “Why retirement, then, rather than just a transfer back home? And why not talk to me about it first? Why keep it a secret?” He coughed a laugh of his own, trying to reassure his visibly-nervous lover. “It’s a wonderful, incredible surprise, but you could’ve told me.”

“Okay, that’s a lot of questions.” Hannibal smiled up from the sofa, though to Face’s eyes it was a weak and exhausted effort, a pale imitation of his lover’s normal bright grin. “So, to start with: why retire? Simple, really – I knew that if I stayed in the Rangers, in any way shape or form, then I could be sent back out into the field someday. I’m good at my job. I’m the best at what I do. And one day, the higher-ups might want me back out there. And I don’t want that.”

That made a lot of sense, actually. Face knew it was no lie that Hannibal was the very best at what he did, and the Army certainly wouldn’t want to let all that experience and talent go to waste. But – “What about a training or teaching position?”

“They could still recall me to active duty, Temp, you know they could. No, it’s time for a change. A complete change. I’m not saying I’ll stay retired forever – I might look at getting some work in security, perhaps, or consulting, somewhere down the line, when I’m back on my feet and the novelty of being a ‘gentleman of leisure’ has worn off. But I always thought that when I left the Rangers, I would leave for good. A clean break.”

Face knew Hannibal would be off his feet for quite some time to come, of course, as he fought to get his strength back after being so badly hurt. He’d been dreading the upcoming battles as he tried to keep his lover still and resting during his recovery, knowing from previous experience that Hannibal was a terrible patient, particularly when he was itching to be back out in the field with the rest of his team. But suddenly, there was a light at the end of the tunnel for Face, knowing he wouldn’t be sending Hannibal back out into the line of fire at all. 

It was starting to feel real, or at least possible. “So, you’ll be all mine, all the time?” he asked hesitantly.

“All yours, lover boy, if you want me,” Hannibal drawled with a lazy smile and a wink, shifting against his pillows and trying to hide a wince. “You and me, at last – no more long distance. No more snatched weekends when I can catch a last-minute flight home. No more cancelled plans when I get sent on another mission that just can’t wait. No more months on end when I can’t see you, or hold you. It isn’t fair to you, or to me, and I love you too much to keep trying to live like that.”

“I love you too,” Face replied immediately, wanting to cross the room to his lover’s side but feeling strangely as if his feet were superglued to the floor. He still couldn’t quite believe this was all happening, so quickly and so unexpectedly. “So why not talk to me about it? I’m not mad, by the way, though I guess I should be. I just… I appreciate the surprise, but…”

“I should have told you, maybe. But this needed to be my choice, and mine alone. This is entirely my decision. Yes, my reasons for that decision include you and how much I love you, but this had to be all mine. Can you understand that? Can you forgive me that much?”

“Oh, John, love. There’s nothing to forgive.” And finally Face could move, stumbling forwards on one shaky leg and one suddenly unsteady prosthetic.

* * *

Hannibal heaved a huge mental sigh of relief as Face finally moved out of the doorway towards where he was lain on the sofa. After an initial smile of amazement, his lover had looked absolutely stunned throughout their hesitant conversation, his handsome features pale and expressionless, bright blue eyes constantly drifting back to the documents he had kept hold of in a virtual death-grip.

He’d known Face would be surprised; that had been the whole point, of course. But he hadn’t expected the other man to shut down so completely, and Hannibal had been desperately worried that he’d made a huge mistake in keeping his retirement plans secret for so long. He wasn’t truly worried that Face didn’t want him to retire, though, knowing his lover too well after so many years. 

Face wanted this just as much as Hannibal did, if not more. It was just one hell of a surprise. Perhaps too much of a surprise, given everything else that had happened. 

Hannibal shifted sideways on the sofa, moving deeper into the pillows and cushions, trying to create enough space beside him to let him pull Face down and into his arms. Ignoring the spikes of pain which shot through his chest at the motion, he reached out to take his lover’s hand the moment Face came within reach and tugged gently.

Face, predictably, resisted and shook his head reluctantly. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Then don’t hurt me. Get down here.” He tugged again, and to his relief Face gave in at last, dropping all the paperwork to the coffee table before stretching out very carefully on the edge of the sofa. Hannibal wrapped one long arm around his lover’s waist to stabilise him, and Face somehow managed to tuck his legs beneath the blanket, reaching down to shift his prosthetic into a more comfortable position. Finally, they settled together with a shared sigh. “Oh, I’ve missed this,” Hannibal breathed with a smile. 

A huffed laugh and a soft kiss pressed to his cheek as Face whispered, “Me too.” 

They were two big, strong men, both of them well over six foot tall and powerfully built. Their sofa was large, too, but they usually had to lie practically on top of each other to fit side by side. Like this, with Face trying not to put any of his weight on Hannibal’s chest and Hannibal trying to move as little as possible, they really shouldn’t have fitted, but somehow they did. Hannibal found the slight discomfort from his injuries was more than bearable thanks to the familiar and wonderful warmth of having Face pressed tightly against his side. 

And as always, it felt easier to talk like this. Easier to breathe, too, almost as if a weight had been lifted from his chest just by Face’s sheer presence. God, how he loved this man.

“I am sorry I didn’t tell you.” Hannibal turned his head just enough to nose into soft caramel curls, inhaling as deeply as he was able. “But this, now? This makes it all worth it. The bullets and the missions and the ICU, and all these years we’ve spent apart.”

“I could do without the bullets and the missions, and I could definitely do without the ICU visits. But if all these years living apart, talking on the phone more often than being in the same room with you – if all those years brought us here, then it’s been worth it, I guess. But you’ll have to forgive me if I don’t quite believe it all yet.”

Hannibal laughed softly, settling Face a little closer against his side. “I’d expect nothing less,” he murmured, feeling rather than hearing his lover’s answering laugh.

He didn’t need to look at the paperwork himself, though he’d check everything was in order before signing it in triplicate as soon as he could. His retirement would be effective almost immediately, given that he was already on medical leave for the indefinite future, and he couldn’t blame Face for having some doubts at this stage. Once Hannibal was further down the road to recovery, once Face had gone back to work, once BA and Murdock were officially transferred and Read’s promotion was finally signed-off – once real life kicked back in properly, and Hannibal didn’t leave, then Face might believe it was real.

“The rest of our lives,” Face breathed in wonder. “I get to wake up with you every day, and come home to you every night?”

“Every single night, kid. We could get a bigger house, perhaps, and a dog or two.”

“A cat, definitely. And a dog as well, if you want.”

“Both, then. As long as it’s you and me, Templeton Peck, then that’s all that matters.” Hannibal closed his eyes with a smile, the worst of his aches and pains forgotten as he let himself dream of their future together. “We’ll have normal lives, or as normal as any lives can be when we’ll still have Bosco and Murdock crashing in the spare room every time they get leave. Tom Read, too, and Mama B will come visit I’m sure. Food shopping together, and date nights, and grilling out on the porch. And maybe, one day, if you want it…”

Hannibal paused, blinking his eyes open again to frown up at their ceiling, suddenly unsure if he was bold enough to continue. Perhaps it was better to leave it there, for now. Enough surprises for one day. But Face lifted his head slightly, piercing blue eyes studying him carefully as Hannibal turned to look at him. “John?”

Oh, what the hell. He took a deep breath in through his nose, breathed out slowly through his mouth. “Maybe, one day, a commitment. If you want, I mean. In the future. To me.” Not quite the phrasing he’d meant to use, not at all, and not even remotely what Face deserved after being so patient for so many years. There was time for better, though, once Hannibal was back on his feet. He could blame his healing injuries for not saying it all far more eloquently than that.

Face froze in obvious shock for the briefest moment by Hannibal’s side, before relaxing again and snuggling closer still. “I think I like the sound of that very much, and it’s definitely something I would want.” Face’s handsome features were alight with joy now, and Hannibal closed his eyes again with a grin of his own as his lover’s head came to rest on his shoulder. “But I expect you to go down on one knee properly when you ask me, okay? And I want a diamond ring, too.”

“Well, obviously.” 

Hannibal couldn’t stop smiling, and the rest of their lives stretched out ahead of them, with no more unforeseeable threats that they would be parted by their Army lives. Even if Face was reassigned someday, it wouldn’t ever be to a front-line position because of his missing leg, and Hannibal would willingly follow his boy to the ends of the Earth. He knew better than to think it would all be smooth sailing from here on in, but whatever challenges life threw at them, they would face them together. 

And he’d have to start shopping around for that diamond ring just as soon as he was back on his feet.


	9. Chapter 9

After adjusting the knot on his tie and slipping into his waistcoat, Face paused as he went to pick up his suit jacket, turning away from the wardrobe instead to survey their bedroom with a smile. It was certainly lived-in, he thought to himself, though not truly messy – too many years in the Army had ingrained certain habits of cleanliness into both of them, and everything was in its proper place, just as it should be.

The windows were ajar, heavy curtains billowing ever so slightly in the early evening breeze, though all Face could smell was the lingering scent of Hannibal’s musky cologne in the room. His lover was waiting for him downstairs, probably already pacing the hall and wondering why on earth Face was taking so long to get ready; they had dinner reservations in an hour at their favourite restaurant, an adorable little Italian place that served the best tiramisu either of them had ever tasted. 

But Face knew he had a little time yet before Hannibal would come to find him. Time to just stop and breathe, and realise once again just how much his life had changed for the better over the past year.

He and Hannibal hadn’t moved to a new home, in the end, choosing instead to make this little two-bedroomed place truly their own. This was the house they had bought together all those years ago, back when Face had still been recovering from the loss of his leg and the two of them were trying to figure out how to make a long-distance relationship work for them. Face had even turned down a transfer to Washington a few months back – a transfer which might have led to promotion someday – largely because he was loving the feeling of being so settled here, with Hannibal by his side and in his life every day.

There had been many other reasons for him to turn down the transfer, of course, even though his lover had strongly encouraged him to go for it. After being so critically injured, Hannibal had needed months of recovery time before finally managing to get back on his feet and to full health, just at the time when the baking Georgia summer had started to turn into a marginally cooler autumn. The newly-retired Colonel had seen it as the perfect time for them both to make a fresh start in Washington, but Face simply hadn’t felt the same way – he had no interest in promotion, and while the new position sounded challenging, he was by no means bored in his current job in intel, where each day brought a fresh challenge.

So, in the end, they had stayed near Benning, in the little house they both loved. And, just as Hannibal had suggested when he first took retirement, their household had quickly expanded to include two pets from the nearby rescue shelter; a hyperactive Labrador puppy who worshipped the ground Hannibal walked on, and an overweight, longhaired cat who loved to sleep in whichever sunny spot she could find, if she couldn’t sleep on Face’s lap. 

Their cat was asleep on the bed right now, sprawled out in a sunny patch, and Face crossed the room to perch on the edge of the mattress, reaching out a hand to smooth her soft fur. The bedsheets and blankets were still slightly rumpled after the post-lunch ‘workout’ he and Hannibal had indulged in earlier, and for a moment Face contemplated stripping the bed and remaking it completely, before realising it would probably be a complete waste of time given the plans he had for his lover later that night.

He smiled at the memory of earlier that afternoon, feeling a flush of warmth over his skin and a distinct twitch in his boxers as he recalled the way Hannibal had pushed him gently back onto the bed. One big hand had cradled his head tenderly as the taller man draped his body entirely over Face’s, kissing him as if the world was about to end. They had taken their time stripping each other, constantly distracted from the task by the need to kiss again and stroke hands over newly-exposed skin, until finally they had both been naked, even Face’s prosthetic leg laid to one side.

“I love you so much,” Hannibal had whispered, over and over again, resting most of his weight onto Face and supporting himself on his elbows.

Face, in turn, had wrapped his right leg up around his lover’s lower back in an attempt to haul Hannibal closer still, the stump of his left leg rubbing against Hannibal’s hip as they had kissed again. He had always loved being in that position, with the weight of the man he loved anchoring him to both the bed and the reality of the moment. “I love you too, John,” he’d gasped, trying not to beg. “Now move, please, just move.”

Hannibal had laughed deeply, his blue-grey eyes crinkling with love and amusement, before making love to Face slowly and passionately. Eventually, they had fallen asleep there, tangled together on top of the covers, waking to the setting sun and the realisation that they would have to hurry up if they were going to make their dinner reservations. 

Shaking off the happy memory as the cat started to purr loudly beneath his stroking hand, Face’s gaze drifted from the pillows and blankets to their bedside tables. His own side was more or less clear – a glass of water, a box of tissues, a magazine – though he knew his top drawer was far more interesting, including several toys and half-used bottles with familiar labels. Hannibal’s side was a little more chaotic; there were the reading glasses he’d finally given in to needing, several hefty books with bookmarks sticking out, and one of his many notebooks, with pen alongside ready and waiting, amongst many other things.

The notebooks had become a constant presence in their lives, and could be found lying in various positions around the house, all filled with Hannibal’s chicken-scratch handwriting. Face had teased his lover a little bit at first for still preferring to write longhand, but he had to concede that it seemed to work for the older man. Whenever he had a thought, Hannibal would whip out a notebook and start scribbling away, lost in his ideas and memories for what could be hours on end, eventually ending the evening by typing up his scrawled words onto the laptop, editing as he went.

Face was sure Murdock had meant it as a joke, that little throwaway comment that Hannibal should write his memoirs now he was retired. At the time, they’d all laughed long and hard at the idea, wondering how many of the colonel’s classified missions could even be referred to in writing, let alone who would ever want to read it when it was done. But when BA and Murdock had flown back out after that particular brief visit, Face couldn’t help but notice Hannibal had taken to keeping a notebook in his back pocket, and a pen close to hand.

It wasn’t going to be his life story, apparently – too much would have to remain classified, after a life lived mostly on black ops – but it was going to be heavily based on reality, blurring the lines between fact and fiction. Face hadn’t been allowed to read much of it, even though his lover’s notebooks were littered over most of the flat surfaces in their house, but what little Hannibal had chosen to show him was, in Face’s humble opinion, simply brilliant, highly descriptive and gripping in every way. Hannibal would show him the finished book, one day, and until then Face would respect his lover’s privacy and not give in to the urge to ‘borrow’ a notebook or two. 

It had certainly kept Hannibal busy during the early days of his retirement, helping to keep him off his feet when he was still supposed to be resting, and had actually prevented him from doing some of the jobs around the house that the two of them had been putting off. Painting the deck before spring, retiling the bathroom, and fitting a new kitchen, amongst other things, but Face knew there was plenty of time for all that. The rest of their lives, in fact.

With that thought, still so overpowering and unbelievable even after a year of having Hannibal retired and living here with him all the time, the early evening sunshine glinted off the ring Face wore on the third finger of his left hand. He smiled down at it in delight, loving the fact that Hannibal had taken him at his word, and bought him that diamond ring after all.

Tasteful, naturally, rather than a big, flashy ring; a simple gold band with a tiny yet perfect diamond nestled within. Hannibal had gone down on one knee, too, in a gesture that had reduced Face to tears of happiness even as he said yes, he would love to get married. And in two days’ time, they would do just that, in a small and intimate ceremony at a beachside hotel in Florida. Hopefully, BA and Murdock would be arriving back in the States tomorrow to fly down with them and stand as their best men, though Tom Read had sadly already sent his apologies from Afghanistan.

Tom’s team had been busy and incredibly successful in the past year. His promotion to Major had gone through rapidly in the end, barely a month after leaving Hannibal’s unit, and the team had been instrumental in the recovery of plates stolen from the Iraqi mint. In the process, to everyone’s surprise and horror, they had uncovered a conspiracy between members of Black Forest and a very much alive Russell Morrison, though the latter had been killed for real in the recovery operation. Neither Hannibal nor Face had grieved for the man, though Face had watched his lover carefully for a show of anger which, to his surprise, had never come.

BA and Murdock, unsurprisingly, had experienced a little more trouble adjusting to life away from Hannibal’s Alpha unit, though thankfully they seemed to have got there in the end. MacAllister was a different kind of leader than Hannibal, and being with him full-time rather than just on a trial basis had proved to be quite the challenge for both men at first. The team were firing on all cylinders now, and were increasingly in demand, hence the worry that there might be a last-minute mission which could keep them from attending the wedding. 

But even if it was just him and Hannibal in the end, Face couldn’t wait any longer. Things hadn’t been perfect between the two of them over the last year, of course; how could they be, with Hannibal frustrated at first with his own physical weakness after being shot, and both of them adjusting to sharing their lives full-time after being relatively independent for so long? Thankfully they had been able to work through the difficult times together, trying to talk about how they were feeling rather than bottling things up, and they had come out of everything closer and stronger than before. Now, Face simply couldn’t wait to show the world Hannibal belonged to him, just as he belonged to Hannibal.

Footsteps on the stairs told Face his lover had grown tired of waiting for him at last. Their excited puppy bounded into the bedroom first, though, chasing his tail in circles and panting hard before bounding straight back out again with a loud ‘woof’. Face grinned into the silence that followed, waiting for Hannibal’s unmistakable voice, which came soon after. 

“Ah-ha, there you are, Mr Smith. Found you at last.”

“Not ‘Mr Smith’ for another two days,” Face reminded his lover with a smile as he turned to see the older man standing in the doorway. “And it’ll be ‘Captain Smith’ then.” He was so proud to be taking Hannibal’s name – Peck wasn’t his family name, of course, and it had never held any real meaning for Face. 

A laugh from the other man. “Well, Captain Smith, we’d better get going if we want to get to dinner any time soon.” 

Hannibal was already dressed in his finest suit, and he stepped forwards to lift Face’s jacket up, holding it out to him with a quirked eyebrow. Retirement suited him, Face couldn’t help but think for the hundredth time – Hannibal looked as if the weight of the world had fallen from his shoulders, still as tanned and handsome as he had always been, but free of the tiny furrow on his brow and the stress lines around his eyes. He’d put on just a little weight, which was understandable given his prolonged recovery period and his new downtime, and his smile was wide and carefree. Face had never found the man more attractive than he did right then.

“Wouldn’t want to miss dinner,” he told Hannibal as he pushed up to his feet, their cat stirring with a soft ‘mraow’ of complaint as the mattress shifted beneath her. “Not today of all days.”

Hannibal helped him into his jacket before turning Face with a gentle hand on his shoulder, until they stood face to face. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Templeton,” he murmured, a wistful smile hovering on his lips; this day meant so very much to both of them. 

It was their first Valentine’s Day in more than six years together, and such an enormous change from the way they had spent the same date last year, when Face had hovered anxiously by the side of Hannibal’s ICU bed. This moment was long overdue, and Face understood exactly how his lover was feeling.

He slid his hands around Hannibal’s waist as the taller man wrapped strong arms tightly around Face’s shoulders, and they shared a soft, tender kiss before parting, slightly reluctantly. There would be time later for heated, passionate kisses, time for wrestling each other to the bed and making love again for long, blissful hours with no end in sight. For now, they had dinner reservations on Valentine’s Day, just like any number of regular couples, and Face was determined to enjoy every moment of it.

“Happy Valentine’s Day to you too, John.” He took Hannibal’s hand in his own, stealing one last quick kiss before they left the bedroom, looking forward to the evening ahead and to spending the rest of their lives together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With thanks to Panda77777, who gave me the idea for Hannibal's new writing career.


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